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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652322">Leaders, Dreamers &amp; Rebels - Handers One-Shots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat'>FactoryKat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Anders Being Anders, Boys In Love, Custom Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Drabble Collection, Fluff, Happy Anders (Dragon Age), M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), One Shot Collection, POV Anders (Dragon Age), Prompt Fill, Warden Cousland (Dragon Age), some canon divergence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:46:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a series of one-shots that I've written and never developed into anything more. Mostly prompt-fills and little ficlets that came to me. Features Anders and my custom male mage Hawke, Wyatt. Lots of soft sweetness and a little bit of excitement mixed in for good measure.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Male Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chrysalism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When a storm rolls through Kirkwall and Anders gets fed up trying to stray dry within the clinic, he turns to the one place he knows he can go.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another "weird words" challenge</p><p>Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquillity of being indoors during a thunderstorm</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t that Anders did not have an appreciation for mother nature and her more primal acts; after all, there was something particularly fascinating about thunderstorms. However, since his establishment in Kirkwall, that fascination seemed to wane more and more with each heavy squall that passed across the City of Chains, primarily while residing in Darktown. He slipped out of his coat, pushed the damp sleeves of his tunic high up on his arms and dragged another heavy barrel across the clinic. He positioned it in the center of the room, right underneath a newly discovered leak. Already damp wood scraped awkwardly against the hard stone floor, leaving in its wake a brown smear.</p><p>From high up on the far wall, the rain noisily pelted the narrow glass window. The sound it made was a harsh clatter and yet was perhaps less offending to the senses than the lullaby of screams and wails of misery from elsewhere in the Undercity.</p><p>
  <em>Drip</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Drip</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Drip</em>
</p><p>He stood there for a moment, exhaling with heaving breaths and watched the thin stream of water that fell from the poor excuse for a ceiling above him. Anders gave the offending leak a snort as he looked on at the collection of buckets and the like set up around him. </p><p>Ridiculous. </p><p>Perhaps the only saving grace in this situation was the late hour. No patients had come knocking since sundown, and there hadn’t been any emergency cases, fortunately. Even if it meant he had to sacrifice his own comfort, as long as his patients were spared, so be it. Somewhere within, both pride and concern swelled together in an odd culmination, but Anders forced it down and let a long sigh roll up out of his chest.</p><p>There was no sense in trying to go back to sleep now, not when he was wide awake. The steadily growing stench of chokedamp rising from the sewers, made worse by the evening rains, did not help matters.</p><p>With nary but a shuffle, his body eager for more rest but his mind far too active, Anders slumped in the chair facing his desk and poured over the chaotic stack of parchment that stared back at him. The subtle buzzing in the back of his thoughts was little more than a stream of consciousness but a welcome white noise and confirmation of his internal musings. Anders dipped the quill in the inkwell and paused to gather his thoughts before putting it to paper. </p><p>
  <em>Drip</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Drop</em>
</p><p>The cold, wet sensation hitting the top of his head nearly made Anders jump several feet in the air. As it was, he sprang suddenly from his seat, thoroughly startled. He jostled the rickety desk in his panic, knocking the bottle of ink over, spilling its contents all across the pile of papers. </p><p>“Oh, <em>Maker</em>-<em>bloody-flaming knickerweasels</em>!!” He tossed the pen with a huff and wrinkled his nose at the new mess.</p><p><em>Great, </em>he thought to himself. <em>That </em>would<em> happen.</em> </p><p>“Anything else, then?” Anders cursed the sky above, spit and vinegar on the tip of his tongue. From outside, the crack of thunder seemed an appropriate response, as if the Maker heard his words and did not take too kindly to the bitter challenge laid at his metaphorical feet. “Right. Point taken.”</p><p>A shiver racked his frame and brought attention to the chill in the air delivered by the poor weather, and Anders felt himself frown. He couldn’t stay down here, not tonight at least. <em>Or perhaps at all…</em> No. No, he couldn’t burden Hawke - but -</p><p>The memory of Wyatt’s generous offer to move in came to mind. Maker’s sake, they had been together for several months now, and Anders knew he continued to delay what was undoubtedly the inevitable outcome. It was a puzzling change of pace when even Justice agreed that Hawke’s proposal was practical. He also knew that the spirit’s urging pressing on his thoughts would not cease until the matter settled.</p><p><em>Fine.</em> Anders silently agreed, despite the gnawing in his gut. <em>I’ll go</em>.</p><p>Ruined the moment he set foot outside was any belief of the rain letting up so that he might not have to trudge through muddy streets in Lowtown on his way to the Hightown manor. It had also been too much to assume that Hawke had remembered to leave the cellar door unlocked, but Anders couldn’t blame him for not. So he carried on with no means to guard himself against the elements but his coat, ignoring his body’s protests with every step until he was at the estate’s front entrance.</p><p><em>Maker, is anyone even awake? </em>He hadn’t considered this part of the plan but rapped loudly on the door, praying for someone within to hear.</p><p>Silence greeted him, and Hightown square was notably devoid of all signs of life as the rain continued in rivers, smacking the cobble streets with surprising force. He debated heading back into Lowtown to see if Varric or Isabela would let him stay or front the bill for a room, but the very idea of turning around rankled worse than the smell in the sewers, so he knocked again with a little more urgency.</p><p>From within, a muffled voice hollered in response and at once released the knot in his chest. Anders practically slumped against the door, but he managed to keep himself upright long enough for it to open. Hawke answered, of all things, and the sight of his lover’s face nearly made him gasp. Heat rushed to his cheeks as Anders quickly sized up the other mage who stood there, house-robe open to expose his bare chest and rumpled red hair all in disarray. He watched Hawke’s face morph from disgruntled to surprise within seconds of realization.</p><p>“Anders? Maker’s breath, what are you doing out in this weather - are you okay? You’re not hurt?” Immediately, Wyatt shrugged out of his robe and threw it around Anders’ shoulders, urging him inside out from under the curtain of night. </p><p>It was a simple gesture, but it brought a smile to his face just as well. “No love, I’m fine. Thank you. The clinic, however, I’m not so sure about.”</p><p>“What?” Hawke queried, shutting the door firmly before returning to Anders’ side. “That bad?”</p><p>“Leaks,” he said with a chuckle. There was grim humor to be found in his situation, he supposed. “I’m sorry for dropping in on so late, I just-”</p><p>“Anders, you can show up at my door at any hour, and I would never complain. Anyway, come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”</p><p>“Perhaps I should do this more often if this is how I’ll be greeted every time,” Anders quipped. They shared smiles and snickering laughter as they padded up the stairs and into Hawke’s waiting bedroom. The hearth was lit, carrying warmth throughout the room and out the door, inviting him inward with the golden glow and promise of comfort. It would be a miracle if he didn’t collapse right there on the floor…</p><p>Once they had their privacy, Wyatt made short work stripping him of his dripping attire. “Maker, I don’t know how you wear this damned thing,” the mage laughed heartily when Anders passed him the waterlogged coat and pauldrons, further weighed down by all the rainwater. The other layers followed quickly, and Hawke made a point of kissing patches of bare skin as they were revealed to him. Nothing else mattered at present, not even while thunder continued to roll overhead, and brief flashes of lightning illuminated the skies beyond the manor’s grand windows.</p><p>“You look exhausted,” Wyatt murmured in the tranquil stillness that had fallen, and Anders scoffed while climbing into a tunic that was sure to be too large on his lean frame. </p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Uh-huh, well you can tell me all about how fine you are in bed.”</p><p>And who was he to object? “I suppose I’m a little worn out.” His lover’s natural scent, earthy notes of firewood and smoke, drifted up from behind as strong arms closed around him. Anders pressed his back into Hawke’s chest and nestled into the embrace a little further.</p><p>“You walked all the way here from Darktown. In the rain. I’d be damned impressed if you weren’t clearly ready to fall over judging by the way you were swaying.”</p><p>Warm breath caressed the exposed skin of his neck, and Hawke’s words hardly registered through a bleary haze that was becoming more and more enticing by the minute. “Mhm. Guess you’re right,” was his response, followed by a chuckle. He supposed his lover’s drowsy grin matched his own, Anders mused as he turned to follow, climbing into the overstuffed bed.</p><p>“I’m always right, remember?” Fingers laced neatly and perfectly through his as he snuggled in close, their callouses a welcome sort of roughness. More of the same scents filled his nose, even highlighted by the smell of dog somewhere underneath, yet it wasn’t a deterrent.</p><p>“Cheeky.”</p><p>“You love it.”</p><p>“You’re right about <em>that</em>, too<em>.</em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Will of Wardens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What happens when the Hero of Ferelden herself makes an appearance in the City of Chains? A prompt fill based on a "What If" the Warden showed up with the others during the Qunari siege in Act 2. Features my Lady Cousland Warden.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was endless. Or at least it felt that way as more Qunari crept out of shadowed corners. They swarmed their group from every angle with small hordes pouring out of every other alleyway.</p><p>
“Maker’s breath-” Wyatt groused mid-exhale as he continued pulling on more power, practically drawing upon the very Fade itself to supplement his efforts. With both hands clutching his weapon, he thrust his staff out and from the gathered power, launched yet another fireball into an oncoming wave of their sieging adversaries. “I swear, they’re multiplying!” The crack and sizzle of the arcane flames as they erupted into a wild blaze, effectively swallowing the horned assailants, was pleasing to his senses. Unlike the acrid smoke of burning garbage and rancid fruit rolling through the market district.</p><p>Bianca’s rhythmic, twangy thunk sounded off in his ears. The bolts whistled as they zipped past after Varric fired each one. After the noise ceased and his crossbow lowered, the dwarf followed with a delayed reply that was no less appropriate. “Now there’s a scary thought!” </p><p>The fine hairs along the back of his neck prickled with the familiar sensation of energy washing over them. He could feel Anders’s healing magic struggling against all odds to keep them alive. Wyatt only cast a glance over his shoulder at his partner for a quick check to ensure he was still standing. It was all too common for the mage to pour every ounce of himself into supporting them in the heat of more difficult encounters. He felt a little swell of pride seeing Anders standing firmly on two feet and looking only mildly annoyed by the goings-on. They wouldn’t be able to continue if things progressed much more but it was good to know at least one of them still had enough fight left. Especially considering he was beginning to feel the telltale drag of exhaustion slowly catching up to him.</p><p>Aveline cut a wide arc through the remaining trio of Qunari, and his eyes caught the flash of steel as her blade ripped through the ash-skinned giants with terrifying precision. It was the squelch of flesh being torn asunder, propelled by brutal force, that pulled his mouth into a satisfied grin. Wyatt was never more grateful that the warrior was an ally than at that moment. </p><p>“Is everyone still standing?” she questioned, shaking the blood from her weapon but never stowing it. </p><p>There was no time for more than a short break, but he was going to take full advantage of what small window he was given. His eyes slid closed while he leaned heavily on his staff, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. Even within the stale, pungent air of lowtown that filled his lungs, he could taste the underlying buzz of mana but it would not be enough to sustain him for much longer.</p><p>Chuckles slipped past his lips as he opened his eyes again and prodded a downed corpse with the blade end of his staff, almost expecting it to rise up and continue its assault. “I’d say we’re a lot better off than that guy.”</p><p>Instead of appreciative laughter, Aveline only offered a grunt and a roll of her eyes. No fun allowed, it seemed. Not while the city itself was practically tearing itself to pieces in conflict with its foreign invaders. </p><p>“Let’s get moving. We can’t afford to dally long. Hawke, we should head to your estate and regroup.” As Captain of the city guard, it was natural for her to take charge, adopting the role of de facto leader, though he did feel as if he had been usurped. Even so, he shelved any complaint and nodded his head in silent agreement instead. It was a plan. Dangerous, challenging, but it was better than anything he could come up with at the moment. </p><p>From the corner of his eye, he spotted Merrill in a hurried approach. Her large green eyes widened considerably as she scanned the myriad of corpses littering the ground around them. “Oh Creators, that is a lot of dead Qunari,” she muttered as she carefully maneuvered around them. “But the alienage is secure. Everyone has been told to stay inside until it’s safe.”</p><p>“Good job, Merrill.” Aveline finally took a breath and released it, after what had probably been hours holding it all in. Wyatt observed her quietly while she appeared to just now come to terms with the state of things. “<em>Maker,</em> this <em>is</em> a fine mess that harlot brought down on our heads.” </p><p>He rolled his shoulders in an all-too casual shrug, “I hardly think it’s Isabela’s fault.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Fenris interjected, still hovering at the edge of their group, keeping his eyes focused forward down the length of another side alley. “Perhaps it was their plan all along.” </p><p>Aveline’s heavy sigh was a good sign that she wasn’t interested in arguing. “Alright. You may have a point, but it certainly didn’t help.” Her shoulders slumped, the tension fleeing her fully armored form. For a moment it seemed as if she was going to allow herself to catch a breath.</p><p>The elf hadn’t yet turned to look at them, but if the twitch of his ears hadn’t given it away, his reply made it clear he had still been listening. “I <em>always </em>have a point.”</p><p>Wyatt leveled his eyes on his dwarven companion just as he rejoined the group with Bianca slung over his shoulder and a grin that split his wide face when a gentle brush against his arm pulled his attention elsewhere. </p><p>“Here, love. You could use this more than me right now.” Anders’s smile touched his eyes, making them glint like liquid gold in the dim light of a setting sun and flickering flames. The timing was hardly appropriate for anything more than a warm smile as his partner pushed a blue vial into his open palms. </p><p>A lyrium potion. The last one. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need more.</p><p>“Thanks. Though-” his pause was not without a mirthful chuckle as he uncorked the vial. “I don’t know if I should take that as an insult.” Putting the glass bottle to his lips, he let the cool liquid trickle down his throat. The lyrium coated his palette like a buzzing astringent that left a charged bitterness on his tongue. Despite the caustic flavor clinging to his taste buds, one that made his face contort awkwardly for as long as it lingered, Wyatt praised the welcome surge of mana that swelled up within him once the potion took effect.</p><p>While the others converged together towards the two warriors, he gave his body and armor a swift self-check and then swept his eyes across the path at their backs before following in pursuit.</p><p>“Blondie, you’re making that face like you just stepped in nug shit, and I don’t like it.” The dwarven rogue had meandered up from the middle of the group to get a better vantage point and must have seen his friend’s perplexed expression.</p><p>“Anders?” Wyatt asked in a low tone caught somewhere between concern and curiosity. His eyes followed the healer’s and watched them flit back and forth across the landscape just beyond Gamlen’s hovel nestled amongst all the others. </p><p>Sandy-blonde brows knitted together pensively, amber eyes darkened and his lips twisted into a tooth-bearing sneer the likes of which Wyatt had only seen on rare occasions. “There’s - <em>something</em>. Around the next corner.”
</p><p><em>Something</em>?</p><p>“Something as in Darkspawn?” Varric asked the question he had only been thinking.</p><p>Judging by Anders’s frown, the answer was quite clear.</p><p>“Well. We know how to deal with that then. C’mon.” Instinctually, Wyatt’s right hand clutched the body of his staff, his fingers drumming against the wood idly as he held it in a ready posture. The fingers of his left twitched and already he could feel a steady heat rising in his palm. Mana coursed through his weapon arm, and standing this close to Anders he recognized the familiar pull on the Fade, like building static within his body. Piercing the air around them was the distinct scent of ozone but a quick glance at his partner didn’t reveal any slivers of blue slicing through his physical form, no outward signs of Justice but the spirit was sure to be on high alert as well.</p><p><em>Good.</em> He thought. They needed all the firepower they could get.</p><p>“Let’s move out!” Aveline commanded with a steady voice and the group rallied at her direct order. Wyatt since forgot about feeling replaced and poured his focus into queuing up a spell for the moment they turned the corner. He spied from the corner of one eye, Merrill, as the earth itself rose up to encapsulate her in armor formed of solid rock, while Varric reloaded Bianca and gave her a pass-over to ensure everything was functioning as it should.</p><p>Fenris leaped to the front of the rallying charge with his oversized sword drawn and eager to spill the tainted blood of their blight ridden enemies while Aveline muttered curses for his recklessness. It couldn’t be called running or rushing eagerly into danger; they moved with a sense of purpose through the wide alleyway and around the bend that spilled into the industrial district.  </p><p>Black smoke poured out of the top of the foundry just ahead and obscured their vision, leaving their ears to catch sounds of clashing steel and human cries of battle. They waded through the smog with weapons drawn, but instead of finding a parade of black, ghoulish horrors, they were greeted by the regal blue and silver of a Grey Warden company fighting back another horde of horned giants. They were locked in combat with the Qunari, not even realizing that another group happened upon them.</p><p>“Wardens!?” Anders’ eyes grew in size, though his surprise was shared by the rest of them. </p><p>Without missing a beat despite the unexpected reinforcements, Aveline and the others stepped in and began their own assault against the Qunari alongside the wardens. The captain’s shield made for an effective battering ram against a charging pair of them, while Varric loosed several more bolts across the battlefield one after another. The swing of Fenris’ massive blade right into a small group was a sight to behold and somewhere Merrill found herself an excellent vantage point from which to unleash her magic upon the same unsuspecting trio. Vine-like tendrils dripping with raw arcane power snaked their way down a set of steps and across the ground to ensnare the legs of one and the torso of another.</p><p>While happy to see everyone putting aside their differences to work as a cohesive unit for a change, Wyatt realized Anders had not left his side. He turned to see his partner with his feet practically rooted to the ground, stock-still and eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Anders? Is everything alright?”</p><p>“What? Oh. It’s nothing. I just thought I saw something.” With a sudden shake of his head, Anders started toward a group of downed wardens. “I should probably see if anyone needs healing.” </p><p>Wyatt chose not to pursue it, seeing the halo of magic build between his lover’s fingers as he approached the injured parties, there were more important matters. “Go on. I’ll cover you then.”</p><p>The tips of his own fingers prickled with the freezing bite of winter’s touch as he summoned forth his opposing element and swept his arm in a grand gesture across his body. A wall of ice sprouted forth from the ground and blocked their return path, just to ensure they weren’t ambushed from behind. When he felt a sudden pressure on his shoulder, a spark ignited in his palm, melting away the layer of ice coating his hand as he turned rapidly on the heel of his boot ready to unleash on his assailant.</p><p>“Easy Wy! It’s just me!” A familiar voice shouted, bringing him to a full and sudden halt. The flickering fire dispersed as quickly as it was summoned.</p><p>“Carver!” All the air left his lungs as he exhaled heavily, realizing who he was looking at now. Eyes as blue as his own stared back confidently from under an overgrown mop of coarse black hair. “Maker’s breath...” It occurred to him after a moment that his little brother was standing there in full Grey Warden Regalia and was here likely with the rest of his comrades in arms. “Are you alright? Not hurt are you? What are you even doing here? What are <em>they</em> doing here?” </p><p>With raised hands, he dismissed the barrage of questions, “I’m fine, and I can’t tell you much. Warden business. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here. I’m afraid to ask what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into now.”</p><p>“Oh, you know how it is. I wouldn’t be a Hawke if I didn’t stumble face-first into trouble every now and again.”</p><p>Carver barked with laughter. “Hah! Good of you to admit it finally.”</p><p>“Hey, I can admit my-” he started to respond when a woman’s shout interrupted him. </p><p>“Stroud! We really can't delay. Let's wrap this up.” His eyes carried across the makeshift battlefield, drawn straight to the source as it approached. The Warden they knew as Stroud - the man who had agreed to Anders’ pleas, rose to his feet just meters behind Carver. </p><p>"Yes, Commander. I'll gather the rest of my men."</p><p>The brothers ceased their conversation to focus on the two Wardens; one they both knew and the other unfamiliar to Wyatt. </p><p>She was a fair-haired woman proudly boasting the same steely silver and blues of the order with a sword clutched firmly in one hand and a shield in the other. The heraldry, a blazing silver-white griffon clutching a green laurel wreath that arched upwards proudly against the striking blue field, tickled the sense of familiarity. Stroud had deferred to her direct orders, hadn't he? The words hero and commander sat on the tip of his tongue as Hawke searched his memory for the images of a towering figure wrapped in steel and hard as stone. It was a matter of trying to distinguish any true facts from overblown fiction. Bodahn’s penchant for flagrant exaggeration often rivaled the narratives from Varric’s stories but his tales of the wardens who stopped the blight were often delivered with twice the flourish as usual.</p><p>Despite the firmness of her tone, there was something in her stormy blue eyes that was both fierce and forlorn. Her mouth was carved into a firm smile as she finally turned her head and regarded both he and his brother. "I apologize for having to leave you all to clean up this mess but we can't stay." </p><p>The annunciation of her words was distinct, clear and proper but not lacking in a very recognizable yet subtle drawl he knew was a characteristic of his countrymen. </p><p>No, the woman before him wasn’t a dizzying seven heads high, that would have been ridiculous. But Bodahn was a dwarf and Wyatt knew the man said something similar about him once before. She also wasn't carved from hard and unyielding stone. </p><p>"Wait! You're <em>Her</em>, aren’t you? The Hero of Ferelden? But didn’t you and the king - Oh Maker’s ass - I apologize, is it customary to bow? Or do I just..."</p><p>As her lips twitched and her expression changed, Wyatt cut off his babbling hero-worship for a moment and looked - he actually looked at the woman standing in front of him and saw things he knew intimately. The Commander, and <em>Queen of Ferelden,</em> was just a girl. She couldn't have been older than Carver and yet wore the weariness of battle in faint lines on her face. It was a heavy burden for someone so young.</p><p>"No, no please." She raised a hand to protest. "It's fine, Warden-Commander is more than enough."</p><p>"Not when you wanted to watch the city guards soil themselves in fear if I recall."</p><p>Wyatt had not seen Anders approach them, too focused on his sudden revelation to pay mind to the rest of the world. Rather than settle in right beside him, Anders remained distant and guarded with both hands firmly clutching the length of his staff while his eyes remained focused on the commander. There was an edge to his voice and the confident tone in which he delivered the line felt forced. </p><p>"Maker, give me strength." She muttered in an exhale as her sharp blue eyes flitted to the sky. "That is so not true! I-" although she looked at him, the realization had only just caught up with her. "Anders?!" </p><p>"It's good to see you, Commander." Hearing his partner's voice take on a sheepish quality was unusual but Hawke didn't wish to interrupt their reunion simply to satisfy his curiosity.</p><p>"So you made it to Kirkwall after all…" her words trailed off and suddenly her eyes grew colder, harsher, like an angry sky before a storm. The way her brows knit together didn't appear to be out of anger but remorse. Lips pursing, she drew in a breath through her nose and lifted her chin at Anders. "You abandoned your post, <em>Warden</em>. And absconded with your fellow recruit."</p><p>Silence fell between them and hung in the air awkwardly for a few agonizing moments until relieved laughter broke the ice. It was Anders who made the first move and dropped his defenses by approaching the commander on what felt like friendlier terms. He no longer held his staff like a shield between them and reached down to openly embrace the armored woman.</p><p>Instead of hesitating, she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around the tall yet lean mage. "Oh, Anders. I'm so glad you're alright, I was worried sick. You should have written, or come to the palace - something! You damn fool!"</p><p>"I know. I’m sorry. Were the circumstances better, I might have, but-"</p><p>"Commander," Stroud cut in as he lingered closer to the group, now followed by other wardens and Hawke’s own companions. The remaining Qunari in this block had been dispatched already. </p><p>Disappointment settled on the Warden-Commander's face as she frowned and released her former subordinate. "I can't stay." She exchanged glances with Carver who nodded wordlessly in reply. "It was good to see you, but I'm sure our paths will cross again sometime." </p><p>"Wait!" Wyatt interjected as his brother turned away. Had he fully intended to leave, just like that? "Carver! About Mother-" </p><p>He heard a weighty and apprehensive sigh. Carver glanced across his shoulder with a sordid frown and shoulders that threatened to bow. He was trying to hold himself together. "I know. I'm sure you did what you could. I'm sorry too. Look after yourself big brother, I don’t want to mourn anyone else."</p><p>Commander Cousland gathered herself and reluctantly stepped back. Her legs were ready to carry her in the opposite direction from them. "While this was certainly a delight, it sounds to me like you still have a city under siege. We both have somewhere to be. Take care and may the Maker guide you all."</p><p>She turned and followed on the heels of Stroud, who cast them a final acknowledging glance and Carver who didn't dare look back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Falling Leaves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's a peaceful fall evening and Hawke relishes in it with his beloved.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A Fall prompt fill: Falling Leaves</p><p>A super short one, sadly. I might expand upon it some time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How do you write that way?” He had to ask, after what seemed like an hour of Anders sprawled across his lap, scrawling away in his leather-bound journal with frightening ease despite the lack of a hard surface to lean upon. Wyatt’s curiosity just got the better of him and he looks down at the man with some measure of humor and adoration. It’s a pleasant, if not a slightly funny sight to see. He wouldn’t trade it for anything else in this world however and doesn’t move, not even shift his body an inch. Instead, he sinks deeper into the soft cushions, trying to doze off again while the leaves continue falling soundlessly outside. 

Anders chuckles, peering at him from over the top of his reading spectacles. “Practice, love.”</p><p>“Mhm,” Is Wyatt’s drowsy mumble. 

“Are you falling asleep on me, Wy?” </p><p>There is the slightest laugh in Anders’ tone, and it makes him want to laugh as well. “No … Maybe.”</p><p>He hears a soft chuckle and a thud when Anders closes the journal and sits up carefully, angling his body to look at him. Wyatt is lost for a moment in his eyes, glinting gold in the low light from the hearth, still crackling away just meters from them. “If you’re tired my love, we can retire?”</p><p>“Nah.” Stretching, yawning, all obvious signs of fatigue, and yet he denies it still. “Better idea.”</p><p>“What do you-” His words are cut off by a surprised yelp as Wyatt lifts him right up and into his arms. Anders drops the journal and glasses onto the cushions below with a laugh, as if realizing where this is going.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Hawke drags Anders into the Fade to help save Feynriel, he is greeted by someone else instead.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just wanted to write a quick drabble about realizing Justice takes over when Anders is in the Fade.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I had not thought to return in such a way. It is good to feel the breath of the fade again - not the empty air of your world.”</p>
<p>It was Anders - and yet - not. Piecey blonde wisps framed an angular face that was both familiar and foreign. Blonde brows laid flat and low across his forehead, above eyes brimming with vivid blue where there should have been gold.</p>
<p>"Justice, I take it?" </p>
<p>"Indeed. Anders has told you of me." </p>
<p>Of course, this was the fade. Why wouldn’t the spirit take dominance in his realm of origin?</p>
<p>"Right. I guess this is the first time we've met? Officially? <em>I think</em>? I'm still not sure how this works-" Hawke rambled with all the awe any man could muster. For a moment he felt like Merrill, enthusiastic and overeager. A dozen queries sat on the tip of his tongue. He had a desire to know more, to understand the nature of their <em>relationship</em>. His father had never touched on spirits or the Fade very much. There had never been an existing need or reason to get in-depth about such things. They, Bethany and himself, had been given a survivor's education - enough to get by and protect each other and themselves. </p>
<p>Justice was silent in his pondering and Wyatt thought he could almost see him process the concept or was he perhaps consulting shared memories with his host? 

“Yes, it would seem that way. Now come. We will not have much time if we delay. I can sense Feynriel’s mind straining.”</p>
<p>Clinical, direct, and focused, unwavering in his confidence - that was Justice. He contrasted directly to Anders with his manic passion and soft edges carefully hidden behind a wall to guard himself against those who would take advantage. Justice marched on almost instinctively taking the lead. Another stark difference between spirit and spirit <em>healer</em> was the readiness to charge forward so that they might save a boy’s life, which said everything Wyatt needed to know about the spirit. </p>
<p>Assuming that all went according to plan.</p>
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